


Four Hours

by Doomfang



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Broadchurch short story, Gen, Over the Side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 23:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3307313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doomfang/pseuds/Doomfang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the short story "Over the Side", Tess describes the day Hardy found Pippa's body. On that day he disappeared for 4 hours after leaving the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Hours

He had to get out! _Now!_

The doctor had been talking to Hardy for the last ten minutes. Occasionally he had picked up the odd word. About his lungs. Pneumonia. Weil’s disease. But the bigger part of the seemingly endless strings of words out of his mouth were lost.

Hardy’s ears felt like someone had poured wax in them. Everything sounded dull and very far away. Even his sight seemed to have gained a thin blurry veil. The colours looked less intense than three hours ago. Everything was the same grey as the jumper they had given him. He felt like he was in a bubble, strangely secluded from the rest of the world. Still, he functioned and nodded at all the right places while looking concerned. He guessed that’s what was expected of him in this situation. He should be the professional detective. Cold and distant to what had happened.

_Then why was his heart racing and his hands shaking?_ He had clenched them into fists at his side. It was giving him the illusion of control he needed so desperately.

The doctor looked at him with a questioning look on his face.

“I want to leave.” Hardy said, without a tremor in his voice.

“As I just pointed out we would like to keep you in for observation.” The doctor replied but Hardy was already on his feet aiming for the door.

“I’ll sign everything. Just let me get back to work.” He turned and looked at the doctor.

With a quiet sigh the doctor grabbed a form from the shelf. “I need your autograph here.” He pointed at the line on the paper. Handing Hardy a pen he added: “Catch that bastard.”

The words got stuck in his throat so Hardy nodded and scribbled a few wavy lines onto the paper. He couldn’t keep his hands still enough to write his name.

 

The floor seemed to be miles away. He wasn’t sure his feet actually touched the ground. It was like he was floating on a cloud. Thankfully no one tried to talk to him so he quickly reached the parking lot. It was deserted at this hour. It had been a long day and he guessed it was well after 6 already. The rain had faded to a faint drizzle but with the cold breeze it was quite uncomfortable.

Even with his long strides he couldn’t avoid all puddles on the floor. The only pair of pants they had found in his size were too short and didn’t cover his ankles. The water in his shoes accompanied every step he took with a squishing sound.

When he had waded into the river earlier his shoes had been sticking in the mud. Now he was practically racing towards his car just to get the sense of moving forward. His jumper was absorbing the rain and pressing against his skin. _He was pulled under again. If only he could reach her faster. Maybe he could still save her._

There was a little prickle on top of his nose.

Then silent tears followed. They felt hot on his cheeks.

He fumbled for his keys, he couldn’t be seen like that. He opened the door and jumped into the driver seat. With one flowing movement he started the engine, closed the door again and drove off. He didn’t think about fastening the seatbelt. Why bother? The worst had already happened today.

He knew something had broken inside of him when he had found Pippa. Something that could never be fixed. Like you could only reconnect the ends of strings with a knot once you cut them apart. And a knot like this would now forever have a place in his head. Pulsing and promoting doubt. He had lost his last ounce of belief in the goodness of human beings. As a cop you see horrid things every day. But up until now he had always clung on to the last tiny bit of hope that people were better than they seemed. But now? Holding Pippa’s lifeless body in his arms, feeling the weight, he felt like he had lost the ability to understand other people entirely. Every murderer had a reason which made sense to them in their own little world. But what possible reason could there be for murdering a girl and dumping her in the river?

He tried to shake off his thoughts by going faster, turning this way and that. He had the urge to just close his eyes and let fate decide the rest. But he always opened them in time. Apparently there was still something left in him that was clinging onto life.

The minutes passed into hours but the monotonous sound of the driving car wasn’t calming him as he expected. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and tried to consciously feel the black plastic against his palms. The little ripples and smooth surface. It was cold and hard, without weight. Nothing like Pippa’s body.

The tears hadn’t completely faded. On the contrary: now they were filling up his view again, blurring the world even further. He didn’t really see where he was going anymore. And he didn’t care. He just wanted to be someplace else.

The rain was dripping onto the windscreen. He took a deep breath, scared that he might be pulled into the river again. This time not coming up at all. He sped up, passing the car in front of him. Then he turned on the radio. Changed channel. He was trying to find something loud and repetitive. Something he could scream at. He filled his lungs with the precious air around him and yelled until his voice trailed off. It turned into silent sobs shaking his body. So he stopped the car and gave in to his emotions. When he loosened his grip around the steering wheel his hands began to shake again. He pushed them under his armpits trying to hold together whatever bit of him hadn’t fallen apart today.

He was sobbing loudly now, his head bend forward tiredly. Pippa’s face just wouldn’t leave his head. He had seen photos of her. Always smiling at the camera like Daisy. God, no! He couldn’t begin to think about his own daughter now. What if it had been her in the river? In his memory Pippa’s face slowly turned into Daisy’s. He writhed in agony and screamed at his feet. His throat became sore but now neither Pippa’s nor Daisy’s eyes were looking at him anymore.

Maybe if he had requested more resources earlier, if there had been more people working on the case earlier on, maybe he could have saved her. They had treated it as an ordinary “missing-person”-case. Weren’t there signs in the beginning that it was a murder after all? Had he been too distracted to notice them?

He jolted upright. Lisa was still missing. There was still a chance to find her alive. He couldn’t save Pippa, but now he knew what he was up against. And maybe he could still find Lisa in time.

He checked his watch. It was already quarter to nine. He took a couple of deep breaths, wiping the tears on the jumper. He started the engine and put on his seatbelt. It was time to go home.


End file.
